Native
by Bakarrot
Summary: A thirteen-year-old Prince's space pod goes AWOL after a miscommunication, sending him to the deepest depths of the backwater planets in the North Quadrant. Upon landing, he finds the world around him much different to that of which he knows.
1. Part I

**A/N: **This is purely an experiment. I've wanted to write a DBZ story for thee longest of time, but failed to find a plot/the motivation to do so. But, I found something, and maybe, it'll go well. It stars a younger Prince (if you didn't read the description) and I'm yet to figure out just where this is heading, so, if you like it, bear with me. We'll see where this river takes us.

Canon storyline, except, it's based _before _Dragon Ball. Hense a 13-year-old Prince..._and_ someone else. :3

* * *

_****Canon input, darker themes****_

I own nothing of the world, or the amazing characters.

* * *

**Part I**

* * *

"I'm going to kill those half-baked spastics! I'm going to forcibly remove every ligament attached to their body, slowly and painfully, saving their tails for last—"

He paced back and forth, ranting to the air around him, stomping with every step taken, crushing the damned dirt beneath his white boots. A furry, auburn tail swished out in many circles behind him, the only physical attribute revealing said fury seeping slowly into all his limbs. Usually, it would be coiled tightly about his waist. He wanted to smash something – preferably the heads of his last two subjects – but there was nothing within five square-miles of his present location. Nothing, that was, except sand. And rocks.

No food.

No water.

Just sand. _And_ rocks.

"—and then, when I'm done breaking _every single bone _in their tail, I'll uproot it from the base, and I'll laugh. Laugh at their agony, their stupidity, for sending me to this Kami-forsaken mudball—"

He continued to pace, cursing the name's of his last "comrades" to the furthest, fiery depths of Hell. It was their fault – one of them, which one, he was uncertain, so he would simply lay the blame on both. The perks of being the Prince were astounding.

"—squirming in the mud like the worms they are, I'll make them look at me, and watch while I pluck the very ball of their eyes from the sockets, and squish it beneath my boot—"

He wasn't happy. No, he wasn't happy at all. He was downright mad. Of course, this is not to question his sanity (he wasn't _that_ kind of mad…yet), no, this kind of mad origins from the pure idiotic natures of the two he was travelling with prior; this kind of mad was created from the simmering outrage radiating from the small, yet intimidating form, still pacing back and forth in intense agitation. A growl of indignation echoed hollowly through the ravines etched into the ground, springing up hundreds of meters high, jagged and rough. They shielded him from the sunlight (not that it was even _that_ warm, nothing compared to what Vegetasei used to offer), and presented cover in case of some backwater alien finding him.

Not that he was concerned about that – he was the Prince of Saiyans, after all. The title came with his power, and although the youngest of the remaining…three (himself included, "Kakarot", as Raditz always said, was surely dead, the _weakling_) Saiyans, he was the strongest by far, despite his age disadvantage. It also didn't help that both Nappa and Raditz were the size of freaking mountains. He didn't let it bother him, though – he was sure his growth spurt would come in his sixteenth year, and if it didn't…well, it better damn well happen.

"—after I'm done with their spleens, I'll shattered their spinal cords, if only to save the very best for last…their lame excuses for brains! Of course I'll have to search for it among the debris that will be the remains of their skulls, pity they'd not feel it when I spread it across the ground—"

A spark of static from his space pod disrupted the flow of speech, and he turned aggravated dark eyes in its general direction. The pod itself was in good condition, considering how many of the rocky formations it crashed through before embedding itself in the bottom of a particularly stubborn one, but the technical side was a little worse-for-wear. Luckily, he was able to salvage most of it, except the communications. He lost all form of contact with the other pods, but he couldn't pinpoint the problem, as many presented themselves when he opened the hatch to the rear.

Therefore, he gave up, and blew up one rock formation in a temper tantrum. When his frustration was sated, he relayed the latest memories added to his long list of recollections stored away in his subconscious, playing them through his mind like a movie, trying to figure out just what went wrong – _how_ he ended up stranded, alone, on a poor excuse of a planet, one with life forms present (he was yet to explore far).

The last thing he recalled before being put into stasis – sleep mode – was Raditz and Nappa arguing over the telecoms shared between their three pods. Frowning heavily as he ceased pacing, he shoved at the bangs in his eyes (one day, he would rid himself of those damn thing, they were a complete hindrance) and folded his arms, leaning back against said pod, a gesture more force-of-habit that came so naturally.

_What were those bumbling idiots arguing about?_

* * *

_He stared out at the stars passing them by rapidly, dead-panning. The incessant bickering between his personal bodyguard and the last third class was wearing thin on his limited patience, if the vein pulsing on his forehead was anything to go by. It was endless, back and forth, like infant cubs. He tried tuning them out, but since the mutual device for the three-way conversation was located in his pod, he was pressed for luck._

_If he shut it off, they'd only be bothering him again moments later._

_If he disabled it, the freak-lizard they worked for would be on his backside like a ravenous carnivore finding a piece of meat. _

_If he shut himself off into stasis already…he'd lost what little freedom he had left before they landed on Frieza 1 – the present base said lizard "lived" at._

_He frowned, shaking off all thoughts of the vile creature. He didn't want to taint his restricted freedom – he would use it wisely. Now…what was he doing beforehand?_

"_—you really are a stupid third class, Raditz! I already told you, it's no use!"_

Ah, yes. The brainless baboons fighting over Kami-knows what. Why do I force myself to keep their company? Oh, that's right, _Lord_ Frieza commands it. One day, I'll be the one giving orders, and that disgusting lizard will be—

"_No, it's not!" _

"_Yes, it is!"_

"_No, it's not, Nappa! Shut your fucking mouth!"_

"_Language, low class trash, the Prince is listening_—_"_

"_Oh, good, now he'll learn of how imbecilic you are, _'Elite' _blockhead."_

"_Why I oughta—your ass is going down when we land, Raditz_—_"_

"_Hah! That's rich—that implies you'll be able to catch me, dunce."_

_He growled lightly, patience leaving with his questioned composure. "Silence, both of you! I'll dispose of you _both_ when we land, problem solved!"_

_Silence followed. Wonderful, captivating silence. He almost sighed in relief, content nearly –_

"…_Kakarot is _alive_, and I'll prove it."_

"_Damn it, Raditz! I'll blow you to Hell!"_

"_Apologies, Prince, but the simpleton is wrong in saying my brother is dead_—_"_

"_The likelihood of one with his power level still being alive without contacting us, after nearly _eight years_, is low. Do the math, Third-Class."_

_He was going to murder them. Slowly, painfully, in the worst way possible. He was –_

"_I just need a little time. I'll travel to where he is, and I'll retrieve him myself. It wouldn't even take that long, honestly, we're close enough now that I'd be able to get there, and back, without Frieza knowing I was gone."_

"_Oh, yeah," came the snide reply, "because the Prince is going to cover for your ass, again. Wishful thinking_—_"_

"_Go to Hell, Nappa," snapped Raditz, a breath of air passing through at an obvious huff. He was certain the middle-aged of the trio was sulking, like a cub. Pathetic. "All I'd need is a week—give me that and then we'll be a Saiyan up."_

"_Ha-ha, if he's even alive_—_"_

"_A week?" he inquired, both of them shutting up instantly. They knew better than to cross their Prince when he spoke. "You're sure? That's all?"_

_It took him a moment, but he heard Raditz' voice through the intercom. "Positive, Sire. A week. I'd get there and back without notice."_

"_Very well," he muttered, shoving the irksome bangs from out of his eyes. "You have my permission. If you're longer than a week, I'll presume you're dead and if not, you'll wish you were. Understand?"_

"_Yes, Sire. Thank you_—_"_

"_Just get to it," he interrupted, sitting back snugly in the semi-comfortable seat of his pod. Pressing a few buttons, he settled completely, closing his eyes. Lethargy numbed his mind, possibly explaining his sudden spike of generosity towards the lowest class member of their group – or perhaps it was simply to shut them both up. It was a twelve day flight to Frieza 1 from their current location, and getting rid of one member for the time being rested well on his tired mind. "Raditz, you have one week. Nappa, I'm putting on my stasis and I swear to Kami, if you wake me before we dock, you'll never see the light of day again."_

_A moment's silence, then a simultaneous, "Yes, Sire," from both of his subjects._

_Relief flooded his weary body as the stasis began its induction, semi-sealing him in a temporary state of stagnation, before his mind flickered out entirely, giving way to a vast void of black._

* * *

He resisted the urge to pull his hair out from the roots. Instead, he grabbed his tail to prevent it from swinging freely behind him, the tip twitching from suppressed anger, and placed said furry appendage in his mouth, and he chewed thoroughly on the end. Another habit that came naturally, yet this one he was trying his damned hardest to break – after both Raditz and Nappa teased him about _"still being a cub! How quaint!"_ he struggled day in, day out to force the instinctive motion from his head, but it proved fruitless so far.

_Not like anyone can see here. I'll chew my damned tail if I want to._

His first priority was locating a fresh water source. If his calculations were correct (they always are), then he'd been in stasis for roughly a week and a half, as he couldn't check the system, thus his body required sustenance, and since he was still growing, he needed a lot of food, and frequently. Not that his employer cared – they all received the bare minimum to live accordingly, and all three of them shared a single room.

_"Privileges are earned, my monkey Prince! Remember that!"_ was all the tyrant would say, infuriating him severely with the degrading name calling and inability to recognise his given title properly. _"Only when I feel you've earned it, then you shall receive…proper rewards. Don't disappoint, dear."_

_Creepy freak. I'll be certain to end him first when I become a Super Saiyan. His lackeys will follow suit. _

He pushed away from his pod, spitting out his tail, the fur matted from saliva. Uncaring, he wrapped the limb round his waist and shut the pods door. Sweeping the area with a brisk glance, he sniffed around, ensuring that he was, indeed, alone. The last thing he needed was some alien wandering where they aren't welcome and stumbling upon his pod. No doubt, they'd try stealing what wasn't theirs, and he'd have to get his hands dirty, again.

Not that he cared much for killing. He just didn't want the job of sleeping near a rotting carcass.

Snorting with annoyance and once again spiting the Neanderthals that sent him here, instead of where he was meant to be, he gathered his scouter from the ground and propped it on his ear. The communication on that was down, too, but he blamed it on the crash landing. He kept it merely for comfort that none would sneak up on him. It was unlikely, naturally, as his senses as a prime specimen of Saiyan blood were astounding. His sense of smell was incredible, the best out of all three, and his sight and sound weren't too shabby, either.

_I'm a Saiyan Elite, the Prince. Of course I'm the best of all three._

Smirking arrogantly, he hopped into the air, swiping again at those damned bangs of his, and flew steadily, avoiding any rocky obstacles and elegantly swooping forwards at a pace faster than he normally could. A little surprised, he spun mid-air, the smirk never once fading. The planet's gravity was weak, much weaker than what he remembered of Vegetasei, so simple things such as walking and flying were a piece of cake. He glided effortlessly higher, alternating between climbing suddenly to falling, free-style, the rush of adrenaline surging through his veins, like music to his ears.

As a Prince, a certain etiquette was mandatory from birth. He'd followed strict rules and a harsh upbringing, but it was fair. That was, until Frieza came along, and snatched him from under the King's guidance at his fifth year. From there, everything…changed, and not all for the better.

Grunting, he shook his head, wind-swept bangs jittering in front of his face. He'd have no such thoughts, not while he was enjoying the sudden breath of freedom - and that's what it was. Unexpected, unwanted and unnecessary, but he wouldn't waste it. No Nappa looming over his shoulder like a bad smell that lingers, no Raditz stating the obvious and expecting no consequences to sassy retorts, no freaky lizard to – to –

_No, none of that here. By whatever force_—_be it Divine Intervention, or a simple mistake I'll kill Raditz for later_—_I will _enjoy_ this. In whatever way I damn well please._

Shooting off abruptly, he saw greenery in the far distance, an assured smirk accompanying a feeling of self-confidence. Although it was his first time truly alone, and possibly stranded on a backwater planet with hostiles waiting in the shadows, he knew nothing would go wrong. A pleasant, liberating sensation flooded his system, starting in his mind, and ending at the very tip of his tail-belt, causing it to spasm slightly.

Where there was vegetation, there was food and water. Where there was life, there was herbivores and carnivores alike for him to hunt.

He'd be damned if he gave up such an opportunity.

* * *

He was waiting.

Upon finding an adequate water source, he drank his fill (noting vaguely it was quite a delicacy to have fresh, clean water, and to enjoy it while it lasts) and leaped into the nearest tree, awaiting the next poor fool to step foot into the clearing. He wasn't patient by any means, but the thrill of a good hunt, the possibility of giving his prey hope before he broke its neck sent shivers of blood-lust through his spine.

If there was anything worth waiting for in the world, it was this.

And soon enough, his prayers were answered. A strange, cervine-type of creature stepped cautiously into view, testing the area out before lowering its head gingerly to drink its fill. With eyes alight with promise and excitement, he crouched, position turning purely offensive, waiting for the opportune moment to jump from his hiding place to strike the deadly blow. His teeth were itching to sink into the fleshy neck of the oblivious critter…

…_Now!_

A feral roar erupted from deep within, and he surged from the branch with an almighty lunge, accuracy deadly to a point, arms outstretched towards his prey, fingers within a foot of grasping that tempting walking-meat-buffet –

Something heavy, and surprisingly strong, collided heavily with his side, knocking him off-balance and into his prey, instead of on it. The cervine creature yipped with fright and struggled beneath the combined weight of him and the unfamiliar presence, before it delivered a strong, stray kick to the side of his head, sending his mind scatty with a grunt of pain. His meal, then free, scrambled away in a flash of sheer dumb luck. Disoriented from the sharp blow, he placed a hand to the sore, throbbing spot and rubbed lightly, trying to dispel the bewildered daze, he blinked away dancing stars before his eyes…and remembered the lump of – of thing – still atop of him.

With a frustrated howl, he shoved the body off of him and to the side. Getting to his feet with a minor stagger, he leaned down with his hands on his knees, panting slightly, willing his vision to clear quicker. The other present obviously got thwacked by the struggling meat-bag that fled the area, and evidently, they'd been after the same, delicious looking meal. Well, he was a Prince, so he should get first choice, damn it!

His sight was returned and, with lips upturned in a venomous snarl and a glare so heated it could melt titanium, he locked his furious scrutiny upon the form of, what appeared to be…some form of a _Saiyan_.

It was impossible, of course, so the similarities were purely cosmetic. The – thing – was laying on its back, looking as dazed as he was moments ago. It was small, probably a cub of whatever species it was, and it wore the strangest clothes – a baggy blue material for both a shirt and pants alike, a white belt around its middle to, what he presumed, keep up the pants, with the oddest looking shoes on its feet he'd ever had the displeasure of seeing. It had hair, and it stuck up wildly without control, another indicator of some form of Saiyan-like creature. It was small, a little smaller than him, and a lot younger, too.

But, that wasn't the most interesting discovery. Not by far.

What was intriguing, was the way the thing smelled. It smelled like their surroundings, earthy and pure (disgusting), but it held the slightest tint of spice. Like fire, like cinder, like…musk.

_Saiyan_ musk.

_Is this creature the result of some experiment performed on a Saiyan? If so, I will study it before I destroy it. I'll never allow Frieza to get his hands on something like this—it could mean the end of Saiyans entirely… _

It stirred, clearly shaking off its previous daze. Groaning, it sat up slowly, pressing a hand against its bleeding forehead.

_How did I not notice that before? I wonder if I can eat this thing…?_

"Owchie!" it said, rubbing its forehead furiously, unaware (or uncaring) of the blood seeping from the open wound. "That thing kicked hard!"

He wasn't sure what shocked him more – the fact it spoke in the Common Tongue, that it spoke at all, or that it was so damned relaxed, or stupid, that it was yet to notice his presence. He, easily, could've killed it ten times over by now, and it'd be none-the-wiser. It was extremely lucky that he took an interest in its genetics.

The whole situation was rather amusing.

"Aww, now I have to go find another one! That one looked super tasty too…"

Curiosity peaking, he found it impossible to remain quiet (and_ ignored_) any longer. Accordingly, he snapped out an abrupt, "Clown!" to gain the acknowledgement he sought. It jumped, frightened out of its very skin, landing in a battle-ready stance, dark eyes scanning the area, owl-like and nervous. Upon finding him standing there, arms folded and smirking unpleasantly, it relaxed (_relaxed!_) and raised a ligament – he supposed it could be a hand, it resembled one – to the back of its spiky head and rubbed, laughing merrily. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you, you may provoke me into killing you prematurely."

The laugher halted mid-flow and he found curious eyes staring at _him_ in slight wonder. About damned time, he wondered if the thing was as brain-damaged as it seemed. Steadily, it crept closer to him, studying him with intense concentration. When it closed the distance between them to a few meagre feet, it began a slow circle, movements precise and controlled, as though anything sudden would result in an attack.

_Smart cub, of whatever species you are. It seems you do have _some_ survival instincts—you're correct in assuming I will attack without warning._

It made a full circle, and much to his amusement, it wore an even stupider expression of confusion on its face. Tilting its head in an innocent gesture known, Universal-wide, it dropped its hands to its side and settled for simply staring silently, figuring out what move to make next.

_What a peculiar specimen. It doesn't even notice that it's still bleeding. How foolish. _

Exhaling loudly, it focussed its dark eyes upon his, and said, "…Are you a girl?"

If not for years of perfecting his stance and steadying his emotions, he would have blanched at the sheer incredulity, stupefied by the audacity of the creature. It didn't stop the automatic flush to his cheeks, however.

_Female? Me?! How dare it! _

"No, you uneducated swine, I am not a girl!"

"You're not?" it asked, frowning its eyebrows together cutely, as though thoroughly confused on his answer. "But Grampa said—he said girls were pretty…"

The vein on his forehead was set to burst, the blush dusting his nose and cheeks searing. He…was simply dumbfounded. "P-pretty?! I am a Saiyan warrior—the _Prince—_I am _not_ pretty!"

"Oh, you're a Prince?" it repeated, its inflection gaining a hint of sweet surprise, and it smiled happily. "Grampa told me about those, too! He said I should be polite and treat them extra nicely!"

Blinking at the blindingly bright smile flashed his way, he, despicably, found his head tilting in that well-known gesture, floored by this thing's…naivety. It was undiluted, infectious, and he found himself wondering how something so sickeningly pure still existed in a Universe governed by creatures such as the freak-lizard.

"Are ya hungry, Prince? I was out looking for food when I jumped you, ha-ha!" it laughed joyfully, grating on his nerves, when it suddenly blinked rapidly, gasping dramatically. "Oh, no—did I make you lose your lunch? We were after the same thing! I'm sorry, come on, I'll catch us some fish!"

Without a chance of allowing him a moment to speak, it turned on its heel and strode confidently over to the stream. It hummed contently, set upon removing its clothing, when it noticed he was still standing a way away…gawking like an idiot.

"What's wrong, Prince? Aren't ya hungry no more?"

"T-t—t-t—"

"'Tee'?" it asked, wondering if something was not quite right in his head.

"—t-t-t…_tail_…"

"Oh, that? Yeah, I've had it since I was born, ha-ha! Grampa said it was special—I was the only person he met with one!"

Slowly, his own furry ligament un-entwined itself, floating out beside him, waving slightly as though demanding to be recognised. The Saiyan-lookalike saw it, and in response, its jet-black tail, identical to his in all but colour, waved along in time.

"Hey! You have one too! That's so awesome—do all boys have tails—why is yours brown and mine's black—do you think it's because my hair's black and yours is kinda really, really dark brown—can I _touch_ it—"

The flurry of questions were lost to his mind and he openly stared at its – _the Saiyan cub's_ – tail. Only one thing was going through his mind, and it was that tail. Having a tail like that meant only one thing –

"You're Saiyan?!"

"…What's a _Say-yon_?"

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Part II

**Part II**

* * *

"Wh…what?"

He was in a state of utter disbelief. Not two hours ago, he was cussing up a storm about – what he thought to be – the only remaining Saiyans, disregarding himself, and now here he was, gaping at the runt that lost him his dinner, who simply happened to _be a Saiyan_. It was impossible, improbable, absolutely ridiculous, and no matter how many times he blinked, looked elsewhere and then back, insisted he was dreaming and pinched himself to ensure he wasn't, the kid didn't vanish. He didn't stop his questions, nor the insistent pulling on his lower arm, disrupting the flawless flow of glove-to-clothing ratio, crunching up the ends. He ignored it, as solving the momentary issue of his plausible insanity took a higher priority than his fashion.

"I said what's a Say-yon?" chirped that irritably joyful voice, drawing his dark gaze downwards, locking on to hauntingly similar shades of ebony, albeit his being a very dark brown.

"I heard what you said, moron!" he snapped, yanking his arm from the surprisingly strong grasp, and he stalked around a little, pacing back and forth with his face creased from intense concentration. Thoughts were running through his head, like a rally course, combing his memory for hints at just whom this wayward Saiyan was. It took a few moments, but a recent memory crashed into his mind like a tonne of bricks, stunning him momentarily, breathless. Diverting widened eyes at the smaller of the two again, he stared with astonishment, raising a hand to point rudely, a single thought flashing brightly.

_That oaf was right_.

"…Kakarot?"

"Kaka-what? Is that some kinda vegetable? I hate vegetables! Grandpa always made me eat them though."

His astonishment, what was once surprise, was slowly fading to a different kind. He blinked, uncertain if this Saiyan was playing with him, or…was actually that simple – simple being the nicest way of saying it. The other frowned deeply at him, mind still obviously reeling over the horror of being force-fed vegetables in his past, but the Prince dismissed it. Now was not the time to question the simpleness of the Saiyan; it was, however, to grill the little idiot on _why_ there was still life on the planet, _why_ he failed to contact them in any way, and – and _why_ he was standing there, undressing without a care, showing off his nude form so crassly for all to see, in front of his Prince nonetheless.

"Put your clothes back on, fool! You're vulgar!"

"Vool-garh?" the clown questioned, tilting his head in a sickening endearing way. The Prince wanted to puke; here was the very last Saiyan to make it off Vegetasei alive, unscathed…and he resembled a lost puppy. Unacceptable. "What's that mean?"

"It means you have no sense of decency, you immodest runt," he spat out, raking a gloved hand through his hair, exhaling unnecessarily loudly. He'd been in the presence of the younger Saiyan for no more than ten minutes, and already he wanted to rip out his hair. There was no way this…this _Saiyan_…was so – so anti-Saiyan. It made no sense. "You _must_ be Kakarot. He is the only other like us who still lives."

'Kakarot' eyed him with confusion, shuffling a little on his feet, his hand slowly raising to grace the back of his spiked head with its presence. "Prince, I really ain't sure what you're going on about with this kaka-thing. I don't know what one is, but I'm not one!" He then smiled brightly, nearly blinding the Prince with its luminosity. "Hey, I'll tell ya my name though—I'm Son Goku, what's your name? Are you really a Prince? What's a Say-yon? Where are you from?"

The questions seemed endless, and the Prince found them whirling around his head like an overzealous fan. Placing a hand on each side of his head, he groaned and jammed his eyes shut, trying to work back the beginning of a headache forming. Sighing, he let his hands fall from his head and he glared at the smaller form with such an intensity, the idiot took the hidden warning and shut his mouth mid-flow. Relief flooded through his system and he instantly felt better, if not uplifted at the silence. However, it wasn't long before it broke.

"_Growwwlll!_"

Mildly alarmed, dark eyes snapped wide open and scanned the immediate surroundings, searching for the source of the loud sound. Eventually, after some fruitless seeking, they locked back on the younger of the two, narrowing sharply in suspicion at the sheepish expression layered above the endless joy of the other. A hand raised to the back of the obscenely spiked head and rubbed in that idiotic motion once more, a notion he was quickly beginning to despise, and the clown smiled brightly, laughing carefree.

"Ha-ha! I think I'm even hungrier now! How 'bout that fish, Prince? You must be hungry too!"

With that, the younger Saiyan (it was undeniable, despite the strange demeanor, and the Prince learned not to take anything for face value the hard way) plodded happily on his way to the edge of the nearby water source, a quaint little lake amongst the forest of giant trees – still naked, in spite of his earlier complaints. Inky eyes rolled profusely and situated themselves on something other than the cub parading around in his birth-suit, or whatever Raditz had called it once-upon-a-time, incredibly uncomfortable with the distinct lack of discretion. Arms folded tightly over his chest, he drummed impatient fingers on his bicep, aware that his hunger, too, was very much present, simply not as boisterous as the others, and he felt a growl building in his throat. Never one for much tolerance of the imbecilic or slow, he shot the back of the other Saiyan a withering glare and snapped, "Are you going to stand there all day or catch a damned fish?! It's because of your ignorance that I lost my earlier meal, and I demand you replace it immediately!"

A small hand waved in his general direction and for the first time in his life, the Prince was dismissed…by a Saiyan. He grit his teeth and let the frustration run its course when it was someone else (aka, Frieza), but who did this simpleton think he was? Casting away _his Prince _like some common half-breed brat? The nerve! It wasn't something he'd tolerate, certainly not from some wayward third-class stupid enough to get himself lost in space.

"How dare you think you can simply dismiss your Prince—!"

"Shh, you're scaring away the fish!" the lummox whispered, putting a single finger to his own lips. Gobsmacked, he felt his mouth hang open, too abashed to form a coherent retort. Twice in a row, he'd been shoved aside, so to speak, and it wasn't settling well, not well at all. In fact, he felt that familiar spark of rage ignited deep within, drawing up his natural energy to surround him in a deadly wave, flickering in and out of existence, the colour a brilliant electric-blue. The audacity of this third-class, thick-skulled cub was testing the thin line of his patience, surely about to snap. Clenching his hands tightly, they shook from the intensity, and he mustered up the necessary energy to deal a nasty blow, though nothing fatal, as he still had unanswered questions, and Kami-forsake him, he'd get his damned answers.

However, the flicker of strength wavered at seeing just how the runt intended on getting his meal.

"…What are you doing?"

Kakarot – he point blank refused to call him that ridiculous other name he said before, Song Gecko? Foolish – glanced at the Prince with a cheerful grin, humming merrily without answering. Indignant at being ignored, the energy sparked back to life, and he took menacing steps towards the unlucky other in his eye line, sharp canines bared in a feral snarl. The younger of the duo tilted his head slightly at the hostile display, but before he could voice his query, there was movement in the water behind him, which his tail was conveniently dipped in. A twitch to the corner of his mouth was all the warning the Prince got before a gigantic fish leaped from the murky depths, intent on latching on to the wagging tail end, only to be foiled at the last second as the runt struck out faster than he assumed he could move, and the fish fell to the floor, stunned. A gleeful exclamation departed the smaller of the two and he turned back to face the royal one, the grin nearly splitting his face sickening to his very core.

"See? Easy as cake, Prince! C'mon, we'll cook this at home!"

The Prince remained still, energy disbanded entirely, and merely stared at Kakarot. In all of his time, he'd never seen fishing done in such a way (not that he held efficient patience to _actually_ fish) and there was one thing that ticked on in his mind…

"Why the hell was it necessary to get naked and do that?!"

He was incredulous. And angry. He never liked being puzzled, it made him mad, and if combined with already simmering rage at disrespect, it pushed him into an unstable state-of-mind, desiring nothing more than to behead the irksome pest, disregarding the fact he wanted answers still. The look Kakarot gave him only served to fan the already burning flames; he looked at him as though he was crazy.

"Well, I didn't wanna get my clothes wet, of course." There was a hint of 'duh!' in his tone, and the Prince felt his eyebrow twitch. "Plus, I like being this way a lot more than wearing clothes! You should try it some time, Prince! Ha-ha-ha!" Unable to believe such atrocities being thrown his way in the form of words, the Prince's anger deflated a little, and his mind confirmed that this Saiyan, was indeed, insane.

Insane was the _nice_ way of putting it.

"C'mon, Prince! I'll take you back to my home and we can cook up this fish!" And with that, Kakarot turned on his heel, giant fish slung over his shoulder, and marched onwards in a direction unknown to the Prince. It was the complete opposite way to his pod, the only place on this planet he felt a little at ease, and it wasn't settling well on his tired mind. It'd been one hell of a day; crashing on a backwater planet with stupid inhabitants (including Kakarot, allegedly), having no food or water, and being alone. The latter wasn't something he was accustomed to, constantly being tailed by either Nappa or Raditz, or one of Frieza's henchmen…but this, this was the first time he was truly _alone_. Not that he'd ever show his discomfort, especially in front of one of his subjects, but he'd be damned if he let Kakarot slip through his fingers. Or that fish. "It's not too far—I live in the mountains!"

It was then he recalled the idiots less than decent exposure. "Moron, you're forgetting your clothes. I demand you get dressed this instance!"

"Wha…? Oh, yeah!" Kakarot laughed, offering him yet another grin. He was certain it was the runts default expression, much like his own frown, or "death glare". Whatever. The smaller of the two dropped the fish unceremoniously and hopped over to the pile of clothes flung across the dirt, picking up his pants first. Tugging them on with a little difficulty, much to the Prince's amusement, Kakarot danced about, one foot stuck in a leg. He watched with a prominent grimace, but his eyes betrayed him, alight with a mocking glee. Jumping up and down with one leg still, the younger Saiyan's eyebrows drew together in concentration and he gave the pants an almighty tug. His foot was freed, but with the sacrifice of his pant-leg, shredding the fabric from the knee down. "Aww, crud! I ripped my pants!"

The Prince couldn't help himself – he snorted heavily to avoid barking out an undignified laugh (_very_ un-Princely) and covered his face with a gloved hand. This…this was the final Saiyan? The last resort apparently meant to help him in growing stronger to defeat Frieza? Ludicrous. This cub was lucky to be alive, from the looks of it, fighting a tough battle with his clothing, which in the end he still _lost_. Shaking his head, his upswept mane went with the motion, drawing in Kakarot's attention, dark eyes fixed on the gravity-defying-do.

_I'm stranded with an absolute idiot. There's no way this clown could aid in my battles—as soon I get some nourishment, I'll dispose of this irksome pest, gather my resources and depart this deadbeat mudball. I'm going to kill Raditz. This is his fault._

"…Prince?" Kakarot asked, shuffling on the spot, the torn pants flowing with the motion. It took all his strength to withhold another round of laughter wanting to betray him. "How do you keep your hair like that? It's cool!"

Pride bloomed in his chest despite himself. Perhaps the barbaric cub did retain some sense of Saiyan instinct. The rest of the alien species he'd come across complained that his natural spikes were weird, even going as far as saying they looked dumb (none who said this lived long), but Kakarot, he was right on the cue, maybe this wasn't such a waste…

"I wanna do mine like that? Is it some kind of magic?!" A loud gasp then emitted. "Are you a wizard?!"

"…You cannot possibly be the last Saiyan…"

"There's that word again—Say-yon. What _is_ a Say-yon? Will you tell me? Are Say-yons wizards?" Wonder-filled bright eyes widened dramatically. "Is that what you are? A Say-yon?!"

"I…" What should he do? Tell this cub his life story, despite him only having an hour or so to live? No. Pointless. Wasted… "I am a Prince. I'm _not_ a wizard, foolish brat, they don't exist."

Dark eyes fell in disappointment and Kakarot placed a hand behind his head, rubbing it. "Aww, man…I hoped they were real."

That gesture was beginning to annoy him, but the Prince let it slide…for now. "Why?" he inquired, partially curious, but mostly wanting to get a move on - he was hungry, Kami-damn it! "Why waste time and effort in chasing false hopes? What could that possibly do to help you?"

Kakarot kicked out at the ground, looking much like the small cub he was, head drooping slightly. This didn't go unnoticed, and it perked the Prince's curiosity a little higher. A small sigh departed the cheery loon for the first time since they'd met, and saddened eyes raised to locate the Prince's, connecting. "I…I was told they had the power to raise those in Heaven. I wanted…" the younger one trailed off, bangs falling into his eyes, obscuring his face from the Prince's line of sight. Irritated, he shook his head, losing interest rapidly.

"If you're incapable of speaking properly, then refrain from doing—"

"I-I want to bring back my Grandpa…"

The Prince halted, head tilting at the sudden revelation. So the cub's 'Grandpa' was deceased? So what? It's not like their race was known to befriend others baring fighting purposes, and family ties were definitely thrown out of the window – hell, his father, the King, gave him away like some prize when he was merely a cub himself. It was a part of life, a Saiyan way of life, and Kakarot seemed…Kakarot seemed incredibly…_hurt_. Even the clown's tail stilled, drooping and lethargic. He blinked, unsure of when the abrupt change occurred, or why, but it was troubling. The last thing he needed was a volatile Saiyan not in charge of his own mind – he was not a cubsitter!

"Fool. The dead can't be brought back to life. What dream are you living in?"

A flash of something he couldn't recognise at such a speed flooded the mirrored dark eyes across from his, and the Prince wondered anew on the mental state of Kakarot. It surely wasn't normal to be so – so expressive? Did this cub recall nothing of what he was, truly? Only plausible direct head trauma would offer any explanation to such strange behaviour…

"Kakarot."

He was ignored, the oaf choosing to look elsewhere apart from the Prince. Yet another thing he wasn't used to, blatant ignorance…this day was slowly becoming the most bizarre out of his thirteen cycles of life. Exasperation and agitation were his favoured emotions presently, and he, with great annoyance, strode over to the immobilised cub and went passed to where his shirt lie. Snatching it from the ground, scowling at the dirt attaching itself to his white glove, and he then returned to where Kakarot stood, still stagnant and solemn. Without much care, he grasped the shirt in both hands and yanked it heedlessly over the brat's spiked head. A short cry of complaint was shushed by his rough actions, snapping the other from his stupor, flailing his arms around like the moron he portrayed, unable to see through the fabric. While it was mildly humorous to watch the younger Saiyan struggle, the Prince was in no mood to play, and the tone of his voice confirmed just that.

"Kakarot! I'm rapidly tiring of your imbecilic ways. If you cannot provide a meal for your Prince then I suggest you start running. Pull yourself together, clown, I urge you, otherwise _you'll_ be on the menu!"

Kakarot stopped flailing and, using what little common sense the Prince perceived he had, pulled the troublesome shirt over his head and placed his arms through the appropriate holes. Fetching his sash without hesitation, the smaller of them wrapped it around his waist with haste, and finally finished, swivelled around to beam at the Prince, who responded with a deep scowl. Rubbing the back of his spiked head, _again_, the idiot practically skipped over to the fish, grabbing it and sped away suddenly, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a slightly bewildered Prince.

"C'mon Prince! This way to home! I'll race ya!"

"Insolent whelp," the Prince growled, uncaring as to why Kakarot simply didn't _fly_, but his competitive side had already taken control, overriding all else but the impulse to win, and make the backwards cub eat his own dust. "No one beats the Prince! I was _made_ to win!"

* * *

He beat Kakarot (as if he wouldn't) and, much unlike himself, the younger Saiyan proved to be a…_good sport_. The mere thought sickened, and baffled him. If it were against any other Saiyan, the loser commonly fell into a major temper tantrum, destroyed a planet or two, then sulked for a few days, before returning, grudgingly, to serve by his side. He was always the winner, of course, being the strongest of his group, so the exulting feeling was familiar to him, but the odd sensation of actually being congratulated for winning…it didn't sit well, not well at all.

"Stop that."

Kakarot blinked stupidly at him, tilting his head in a curious manner. "But why? You won fair and square, Prince. I only said that because—because it's what Grandpa taught me. Did your Grandpa not teach you that?"

He snorted at the ridiculous banter spewing forth from the runt. "Warriors don't need their _'Grandpas'_ to teach them anything. A true warrior learns to fend for himself. For example, I could've killed you a hundred ways by now."

A shake of black spikes hushed his speech, and with a raised eyebrow at the peculiar expression the other's face adorned, the Prince briefly felt inquisitive as to how Kakarot's mind worked. Everything the Saiyan did was the total opposite of how he'd been taught…or learned. From studying the body language and behaviour of Kakarot, he'd determined the idiot was at complete ease around him, as moronic as that was, it sent him wondering, pondering on how the lost Saiyan even functioned.

"Why are you doing that? Is is a disorder? It had better not be contagious, otherwise I'll cut you down where you stand!"

"Prince…where are _your_ family?"

His mouth was hanging open, he could feel it, but nothing he did, or thought, could make him close it. A usually active mind had fallen startling silent at that unexpected query, innocent and simple, yet it shut down his entire system. Training his mind over and over prepared him for the most gruesome of battles, the most intense weeks of survival on the bare minimum, but here…it still failed him. Memories and emotions left alone long ago desired nothing but to tarnish the barriers he manifested to keep them all held at bay.

"Why are you…alone? Did they…did they leave you, like mine left me? That's how Grandpa found me. Did your Grandpa…did he not find you?"

_Grandpa…? What _is _a Grandpa? Why…why does it sound like something I—I missed out on? What is the meaning of this?!_

"Cease your idle chattering, fool," the Prince snarled, eyes narrowing in warning at seeing the younger Saiyan, who'd slowly been moving in his direction. Kakarot hesitated for a second, weighing out something in his head, much to the irritation of the other, and then moved forwards again. Dark eyes widened minutely, and faster than Kakarot could see, the Prince raised a hand and a beam of _ki_ shot from his open palm, the energy colliding with the ground inches away from the clown's feet, scorching away the grass. "Do not _touch_ me."

Swallowing a lump that appeared in his throat, Kakarot stared at the smoking ground in front of him with eyes as wide as the moon, flicking his gaze up to observe the Prince, hand still hovering in the air dangerously. He meant business, even a fool such as Kakarot could decipher that as a moment later, he backed off, letting a little more space fall between them. He didn't stray too far, though, but it was enough to please the one of royal blood. Sighing heavily, he switched his perceptive scrutiny from the shrimp to analyse the…accommodation that came with the offering of food.

It was a small, odd-shaped building of some sort, with an upturned material that served as a overlarge roof. Two doors stood at the front, and from what he could see, there was a few windows. Not that he cared for windows – they only meant for more openings for enemies to attack from. The colouring was plain, simple, but even one such as himself could admire it suited whatever this particular design was meant to represent. It was far from the regal palace of Saiyan royalty, but it was a damned sight better than anything Frieza conjured.

"This is your 'home'? It will suffice—get on with making my meal now, clown."

Kakarot looked at him for a moment, as though daring himself to speak. Upon quirking a brow at the curious cub, the midget Saiyan went on his way and started to prepare the fish for eating. The Prince watched each movement with the utmost of care; there had been many times in the past something slipped a drug of some sort in his meal, and thus, he'd grown to eat before, or away, from the rabble aboard the mothership. When on-planet, it didn't really matter because he caught and prepared his own meals, or made Nappa/Raditz do it. They'd never dare to disobey a direct order from him, despite his smaller stature and cycle age. However, it appeared his 'fretting', as Raditz had put once (_once_ only), was in vain as Kakarot hadn't put anything in, or on, the fish.

_Hn. At least the clown is useful for something._

A short while passed and before he knew it, the Prince was happily tearing into a large portion of the fish Kakarot cooked, quite well, not too well done, not too raw. If it was one thing he could appreciate upon any planet, it was decent food. Frieza's rules made it difficult to get in a sufficient meal when aboard his vessel, and stealing food was strictly forbidden, the consequences of being caught doing so, severe. Well, he'd say if a poor alien was found thieving rations…nothing would be left of them come the following morning._ Nothing._

To say the Prince hadn't ever stolen would be truthful.

_Even I know a suicide mission when one pops up. Besides, I'm never on that damned ship for long enough to enjoy an attempt of thievery. _

Loud munching reeled him out of his thoughts, and with a disgusted portrayal, he glanced sideways at his…acquaintance…shoveling large servings of fish down with each mouthful, his tables manners disgraceful. Scrunching up his nose in displeasure, he growled loudly, gaining the younger Saiyan's attention alongside a questioning gaze and he sneered while saying, "I've seen grotesque alienoids eat with better manners than you. Did your _'Grandpa'_ not teach you social etiquette, or was he a vulgar clown too?"

A flash of anger, yes anger!, crossed the smaller of the two's face and he pointed a finger at the Prince, eyebrows folded neatly downwards in a pouting frown. "Don't you say such mean things about my Grandpa! He was the best person ever! If only you'd have known him—you'd want him to be _your_ Grandpa too, he's that awesome!"

"Unlikely, moron," the Prince sneered, an unfriendly smirk finding its way to his face. _Finally_, the clown was showing something that was renown to be Saiyan – a temper ignited by rage. "I don't need something as absurd as a 'Grandpa'. I do just fine by myself."

As quickly as it come, Kakarot's rage vanished, replaced by that awful, idiot smile of his. The Prince felt his whole demeanour fall, stunted by the almost split personality of the other Saiyan. It was unfair, being stranded with a Saiyan that posed no threat, that offered no challenge. With an exaggerated roll of dark-brown eyes, he huffed and turned away from Kakarot, not wanting to bear witness to that sickening joy the other indulged himself in. He had much better things to do – such as planning every gory detail of Raditz's murder for getting him into this situation in the first place.

_Hn. Tail first? Or should I start with his fingers…one by one, broken and useless, hanging on by nothing but the skin around them…or maybe even his feet, preventing any escape—_

"Prince?"

"What now?" he barked, opening his previously closing eyes to glower at the other who shook him from such…pleasant thoughts. "Why are you bothering me?"

That bothersome gesture bloomed to life again, Kakarot rubbing his head while that foolish smile cracked his face. "Well…since you're alone here and have no home—"

The Prince growled darkly, warning embedded in the feral sound.

"—why don't you stay here? Grandpa always told me to never turn away someone in need!"

"I am never in need, clown, especially when aid comes from someone like _you_."

Unfazed, the younger Saiyan continued to smile broadly, tail twitching obviously behind him. Frowning somewhat, the Prince stood up suddenly, arms crossed uncomfortably tight across his chest, glaring suspiciously down at the other, watching that tail all the while. It seemed the cub wasn't in total control of his appendage, it giving away much of what he thought or felt at the time, and the twitching commonly meant bad news. On guard, he waited impatiently for Kakarot to make the first move, to lunge at him…

"All right, all right, Prince, but you're still welcome to stay if you need a place! There's plenty of room in there, and we could like, play in the forest until bedtime, or—or we could spar, I like to fight—I know martial arts, Grandpa taught me—do you like to fight?"

Again, the multi-track of questions left the Prince a little ruffled. It was like Kakarot had the attention span of the fish they just ingested, it was slightly unnerving. Was the clown trying to pull a fast one on him? His tail was still twitching at the end, just a little more frequently, a little more chaotically. Surely he realised what his body language was saying to the Prince? That he was getting ready for something…such as a battle, or ambush. Dark eyes widened at the realisation – Kakarot _was_ trying to trick him! Sooth and appeal to him with false niceties, only to leap and stab him in the back! Well, he wouldn't let _that_ happen, thank you very much!

_So the idiot cub is a mild threat after all. I won't be fooled, third-class dog—didn't your 'Grandpa' ever tell you, you can't trick a trickster?_

Smirking nastily, the Prince unwound his arms, letting them hang loosely by his side. Tilting his head a little as though curious, when in fact he was gradually building adrenaline in preparation for his preemptive strike, he locked his gaze with the falsely joyful dark hues of his smaller counterpart. His own tail fought to slash about in the air behind him, but he maintained his control over it, refusing to give himself away, much unlike Kakarot. The moron was a walking broadcast, leaving no action to be pondered.

"I am a warrior, Kakarot—fighting is in my _blood_. So yes, I like to fight. Why, pray tell, are you so insistent that I spend the night here? As stated already, I do not need your help."

"Well," Kakarot began, pressing together his index fingers and thumbs in an almost bashful manner. Regardless of how innocent and honest the moron looked, the Prince wasn't going to be blinded. He was _ready_. "I get kinda bored here alone, and having you stay would be fun…"

The twitching of his tail was slowing dramatically, almost becoming non-existent, to the Prince's confusion. Restraining the urge to just end the problem then and there by decapitating the younger one, he clenched a hand into a fist, striking out at the air in front of him in perplexed frustration. Nothing this cub did made sense!

"Fun? I'm not here for 'fun', Kakarot. But…" he hesitated, making it appear that he was mauling the possibility of him staying over in his mind, observing the way Kakarot perked up instantly, the twitch increasing once again. "I suppose, since I have no other option opposed to staying in a cave or up a tree, I will stay for the night. This decision is _nothing_ to do with your pitiful begging—I simply don't wish to get dirty."

The twitch responded to his answer, and Kakarot's eyes were bright and wide. His expression was one of great joy, and it only nudged his suspicions of an attempt on his life further up –

"That's so cool! We'll have so much fun!"

One more twitch was all it took from the younger Saiyan's tail…for it to turn into a full-blown, no holding back, _wag_. The cub was wagging his tail like an excited puppy. Under closer observation, the Prince also noticed the idiot's entire body was shaking – from _excitement_.

…_This has to be some kind of a joke. There's no way…this is ridiculous…he's wagging his tail because he's excited about having me stay?!_

And just like that, his pumped up status dispelled abruptly, another dumbfounded sensation hitting his conscience like a tonne of bricks. In all of his cynicism, in all of his doubt…not one malicious action was taken by Kakarot. If anything, the erratic cub had _complimented_ him by showing joy in regards to his extended presence. The Prince hadn't even come across such an individual as his company before…and he didn't quite know what to make of it all. He should be fuming; a Saiyan, parading around with an outrageous grin permanently etched onto his face. He should be laughing; the fool clearly had a screw or two loose. He should be – be a lot of things, Kami-damn it, but all he felt was disorientation. Nothing in his training manual prepared him for such a circumstance in which he found himself.

He shook his head, lip upturning in a vicious snarl at finding himself bewildered again. More times than he'd admit to today, he ended up confused. Confusion when out there got one killed, so it wasn't something he liked. Placing a gloved hand to his forehead, he massaged his temple lightly, willing away the headache that never quite left. Inhaling deeply, he steadied out his jumbled thoughts, banished the confusion to the furthest depths of his mind and focussed his attention on the Saiyan with the wagging tail.

"…Why are you so excited? I said I'd stay, but due to nothing you did."

"I know," Kakarot said warmly, agitating the Prince in addition to more turmoil, "I've not had any company for the longest time—it'd be nice to have someone else around again. Since Grandpa died, it's been real quiet here, and you're the first person I've seen besides him!"

Both hands went behind the spiked head this time, and a dazzling smile accompanied the casual posture, all sent towards the Prince. The cub was lonesome? Preposterous. Saiyans didn't require _bonds_. They were solitary by nature (or so Nappa and Raditz informed him) and only joined packs if necessary to take out a tough enemy, or to repopulate when the number of them got too low. Everything about this Saiyan was so un-Saiyan. His tail jerked slightly, and he fought fiercely against the whim of biting the end, as he normally did when wanting to ease stress. Instead, he grit his teeth roughly together and exhaled loudly through his nostrils.

"Hey Prince—"

"What now?!"

"—why do ya keep your tail up like that? Don't'cha like it down?"

That caught him off guard. Did the cub not know about the pain – about the _weakness_ of letting it 'hang loose'? Hmph. He'd have to teach him a thing or two before he annihilated him.

"Come here."

Kakarot, without the slightest hint of hesitation, strolled over to stand in front of him, smiling like the sun. The tail behind him was still wagging, just less enthusiastically, and with precise movements, the very end was captured in a white glove faster than the smaller Saiyan could blink. All motion quelled instantly, and the fool's breath hitched, heartbeat quickening. A royal eyebrow arched in interest at the hurried change, and he gripped his other hand to the tail too, examining any response closely. A slight tremble ran along the length of the obsidian ligament, and a subtle yank tried to pry it free from the iron-like grasp. He growled at this, ceasing all attempts of recovery instantly.

"Are you trying to take your tail from your Prince, Kakarot? You'd be beheaded for disobedience."

The little imbecile swallowed audibly and shook his head too quickly, alarm shining within his ebony hues. "N-no, I don't mean any disrespect! It's…it's just…"

"Just…what?" he inquired, tone laced with concealed venom. One incline of defiance and this cub would feel a world of pain…

"Well…the last time my t-tail was touched, it—it hurt. A lot." Kakarot pulled a sour face, scrunching up his nose in displeasure. "It made all my power disappear. I-I don't like feeling so…so helpless."

There was a silent plea threaded in the humble tone. A plea for the Prince to not force said agony upon his subject. A sinking feeling and a tightening of his chest confounded the royalty, and with a twitch to his eye, he slowly relinquished the vice-like hold on the furry length. He then turned away hastily, not bothering to linger on why he appeased the cub; he simply couldn't comprehend his actions since arriving on this Kami-forsaken heap of a planet and didn't want to even try. All he wanted to do was to retire for the night, gain a decent nights sleep and ponder on his next move in the morning. His hands shot to his head, rubbing furiously at his temple, enticing the pounding in his head to vanish.

"Enough of your worthless babbling, clown. I wish to sleep—you will direct me to my chambers straight away."

The tension melted away from Kakarot and the previously grimacing expression became sprightly once more. Nodding happily, he motioned to for the Prince to follow, which he did with a snort, and showed the older Saiyan to his home. Pushing lightly on one door, it opened without much hassle, revealing a small, if not…_cosy_, room behind. The Prince had been aware of it being small beforehand (any idiot gazing at the outside could very well see the true size), but it didn't seem so spacious from the outside. Wondering if some form of illusion was placed on the outside to hide away the true size of the building, he started at a sudden hand appearing on his shoulder out of nowhere. Squeezing the hand with a grumble, Kakarot yelped at the harsh pressure on his joint, flinging his arm backwards almost instantly. He let the clown's hand go – it was a warning, one he hoped to not have to repeat.

"I said before, don't touch me."

"Yeouch…" Kakarot mumbled, shaking the life back into his hand, eyeing the Prince a little warily. "You got one helluva grip, Prince. You must be really strong!" Pain forgotten, to his astonishment, Kakarot jumped up and down on the spot, ecstatic suddenly, with wide, hopeful eyes. Tail…wagging. "Will you spar with me tomorrow?! I bet it'd be sooo much fun!"

A deep rumbling began in the Prince's chest, the beginning of a growling session. This cub was testing his patience, incredibly so. He was tired, annoyed, and wanted nothing more than to rest. Not chatter idly for the next half-hour. "Where is my bed, whelp."

"The bed's over there," Kakarot stated calmly, in spite of his eagerness. "You can take it, Prince—I don't mind sleeping on the floor!"

"I'd not have it any other way," he remarked dryly, already making his way to the 'bed'. It was nothing compared to what he was used to (thank the Gods, the beds on Frieza's ship – where he spent most of his days – were Kami-damned _awful_) but it was perfectly suited to his current needs. Deeming the furniture worthy of sleep duties, he flopped back gracelessly to the surprisingly soft material, it moulding to his form pleasantly, supporting all his achy joints and tired muscles. "Hn, not bad."

"I know, right?" Kakarot chirped, standing at the edge of the bed, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So…about sparring…"

"I'll fight you if I feel like it in the morning, Kakarot," the Prince snarled, closing his eyes as he curled up in plush furs. "I swear it, if you wake me before I wish, you'll not make it to the morning."

"Got'cha!" the other chuckled heartily, shuffling about behind him for a few moments before silence fell. Relief flooded the Prince's whole form and the weirdness of the day was slowly ebbing away, replaced by contentment. His guard was never fully lowered however, even in the company of the Saiyan reject on the floor. Daylight was fading rapidly to give way to the night sky, and a hush fell on the planet. Nothing could make it more peaceful… "Prince?"

A very unamused, angry growl sounded from said Prince, eyes snapping open to turn and glare down at the form relaxed on the ground. "What did I just say."

"I-I know, I just wanted to ask one more thing—promise!"

Exasperated and weary, he'd do just about anything to get some uninterrupted rest – even answer one pesky question from a cub with limited time left. "…What?"

"Why, uh, did you come to this planet? I was told there's a lot of other planets out there, so why'd you choose this one?"

A simple question, a simple answer. "I didn't choose."

"What do you mean, Prince?"

"I…"

"Are you…lost?"

Sympathy oozed in the gentle tone and it made him retch. Striking out at the plush softness beneath him, the Prince bared sharp teeth at Kakarot, who looked taken-aback. "I don't want or need your sympathy, Kakarot, so shove it! You disgust me with your gentleness, and come morning, if I don't kill you before our fight, I'll do it during it! You're a disgrace, you third-class clown!"

And with that, he rolled over angrily and shut his eyes again, murmuring darkly underneath his breath. He was stiff all over again and it'd taken a while to relax. He damned Kakarot to Hell, trying to force slumber upon his mind. Soft shuffling behind him drew in his attention, much to his chagrin, and a light sigh resonated, grating on his nerves.

"…I—I'm glad, Prince."

He was going to murder that cub, slowly and painfully as realistically possible.

"I was kinda lonely before I found you. I'm glad you got lost."

A deadweight fell on him and the Prince's chest constricted again, much like it did earlier. He had no explanation about what was the cause, but he was slowly puzzling together the pieces, the arrows all pointing, at the moment, at Kakarot.

There was something about that Saiyan that made his blood run cold.

* * *

The Prince awoke when it was still dark to strange sounds. It was almost like…whimpering. Frightened whining. Too drowsy to properly analyse the noises, he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes with balled up hands. Snorting lightly, he blearily peered around the room, thanking his enhanced vision to enable him to see in the darkest of places, the little room being one. Eventually he located the origin of the sounds – Kakarot. The clown was fidgeting constantly, face creased in an expression of concentrated apprehension. He twitched and tumbled over and over, tail jerking spastically around, thumping against the floor, coiling in tight circles to release a moment later, twisting in nervous patterns. It was a display of great discomfort, and it was then he realised that the runt was having a nightmare.

The Prince shook his head, groaning with despair. What did he do to deserve such a thing? Firstly, he gets marooned on a peculiar planet with no intelligent life to be found. Second, he finds a Saiyan – a Kami-damned Saiyan! – who turns out to be a complete disappointment and a disgrace to their entire race. Third, his sleep is disturbed by the cub having nightmares.

_What a weakling. Bah, he's disturbing my slumber—he'll die when I have the energy to move later—_

Suddenly, Kakarot sat bolt upright, eyes wide open and terrified, glistening with unshed tears. Choking noises departed his lips and he was panting heavily, looking around like a mad-man, jumpy and indescribably rigid. The fuzzy tail stilled also, straight and stony. He watched as reality settled on the scrambled mind of Kakarot and he saw the tension physically leave his body, and glossy eyes locked onto his upright form, breath hitching quietly. The prince froze, eyes widening as the idiot leaped from the floor and literally tackled him in one smooth move. A very un-Saiyan squeak emitted, and as much as the Prince would deny it, it sounded from him. Arms wound around him in a bone-crushing embrace, to which he fought against brutally, indignant at being pounced unawares.

"Kakarot—let go of me _now_! Get off lummox, before I fry what little brain you have!"

A pained sob paused his struggles briefly, his inquisitive nature overwhelming his outrage at being manhandled like a peasant. The body clutched tightly against his was trembling violently, snivelling and waterworks accompanying the pathetic action. Rolling his eyes notably, the Prince pushed hard against the shoulder in his reach, repeating his earlier words.

"Kakarot, let go this instance. Don't make me say it again!"

Said third-class cub raised his head and peered at him through watery eyes, trails of moisture staining his cheeks, and the Prince's top. The sight of the younger Saiyan was deplorable, and when further tears leaked from the corner of glimmering eyes, it only added to that factor. Grunting with another shove, he relented (for now) and studied the clearly distraught cub attached to him.

"Stop that blubbering, idiot. You are a warrior, are you not? Warriors don't cry."

"But—but I—I just…"

The cub couldn't even speak coherently. This whole day was beginning to become a major drag. Sighing sluggishly, the Prince ran a gloved hand through his flame of hair, glaring down at Kakarot through partially lidded eyes. Dropping his hand back to the bed, he figured that if the runt didn't get whatever frightened him off of his chest, neither of them would be sleeping. Too tired to care about why he wasn't simply frying the insolent brat, he stared at the other, expectant.

"I just…I-I…saw…"

"You saw, what. Spit it out already, you're pushing my patience."

"I-I saw…t-the m-monster that-that k-killed my Grandpa…"

That caught his attention. "Monster? What rubbish is this?"

Kakarot's eyes welled up with addition tears, and he sniffed pitifully. If only his brother could see him now… "T-the monster that appeared one night…Grandpa didn't stand a chance…"

"And—what? This monster _frightens_ you?"

A subtle nod was all he received as an answer, Kakarot deciding to instead bury his head back into the Prince's top. Deadpanning, resisting the urge to throttle the fool, he drew up his remaining composure and snapped, "What kind of a monster frightens a warrior? You obviously aren't much of a warrior then, Kakarot. Scared of a little demon? Hn, what a joke."

"Y-you…don't understand, Prince," Kakarot whispered, voice muffled by his shirt. The Prince denied the urge to roll his eyes again, instead folding his arms awkwardly over the shivering cub. "This monster…it wasn't like anything in the stories Grandpa used to tell me…it was _worse_."

"How was it worse?"

"It took Grandpa from me…"

Frowning, the Prince looked down at the shaky Saiyan, who still refused to raise his head. This Grandpa…why was Kakarot so thoroughly attached to it? He, the Prince of their race, the prodigy, was attached to nothing, nothing but gaining strength. Power was everything – life, breath and death. And yet…here Kakarot was, crying over some dead creature, claiming he…_meant_ something to him. It was incomprehensible.

"You're a fool, Kakarot. Attachment to something or someone is a weakness, a great weakness. Were you taught nothing?"

"B-but Grandpa said—"

"Your Grandpa was wrong!" he snarled, startling the smaller of the two, questioning dark eyes seeking out the Prince's furious pair. "Nothing good comes from attachment—it's a foolhardy motive that ends always the same; death! You've seen it for yourself—this _'monster'_ of yours took away your Grandpa, and instead of getting the strength necessary to take your vengeance, you snivel like a cub and whine about how scary it is! Pathetic, Kakarot! I despise myself for associating with you."

"Revenge is nothing I'd ever do, Prince. Grandpa said revenge only brought more pain, more suffering…I don't want that."

He didn't believe his ears – a Saiyan was denying revenge? A _Saiyan_?! "…What are you?" His tone was painfully obvious with his confusion, but he couldn't help it – there was _no sense_ in Kakarot's existence. None at all.

"I-I won't ever become like that monster—I'll never take a life so freely!" Kakarot declared, looking determined even through his tears. "I'll protect everyone—even you, Prince!"

Numbed, the Prince merely stared.

…_Wha…protect…what the hell is this thing? How…how is this a Saiyan? He is nothing…nothing like one should be, nothing like Nappa, or Raditz. What _is_ he?_

"That monster…it was like a giant monkey," Kakarot said lowly, drawing the Prince's attention instantly, his dark eyes widening. "It was big, brutish, and a bully…in my nightmare. I don't remember meeting it proper, but…I know it was what took Grandpa from me. I can _feel_ it." The younger Saiyan switched his gaze to the Prince, whom was rather bedazzled. "Prince? Are you okay?"

"Saiyan." He couldn't stop his mouth, ashamed yet uncaring at the moment. "That's a Saiyan."

Identical black eyes opened dramatically, and his mouth hung open comically. If only the situation were amusing. "That monster-that is a Say-yon?" A nod from the Prince confirmed his question. Kakarot pulled a horrible face, expression upset and angry combined. "I take everything good back about what I thought of Say-yon's from before—I _never_ want to be one of those monsters!"

_M-monster? Saiyans aren't monsters—they're proud warriors, the best in the Universe! How dare this—wait…he said…Kakarot said… _The Prince stared at Kakarot, who in turn looked defiantly back at him, stray tears flowing down the drying cheeks. _It was him… Kakarot killed his own Grandpa._

"I hate Say-yons," the wayward cub exclaimed, voice filled with pained determination. "If I ever find that Say-yon that killed Grandpa—or even another Say-yon…I don't know what I'll do, but they'll regret messing with me!"

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
